


Atrabilious

by TheFreakWithTheWings



Series: Gift fics [2]
Category: Hiccup Series - Cressida Cowell, How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - How to Train Your Dragon Fusion, Crack, Dragon!Dwarves, Dragon!Thorin, Gen, Viking!Bilbo, Viking!Hobbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:17:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4856054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFreakWithTheWings/pseuds/TheFreakWithTheWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>atrabilious<br/>(adjective)<br/>gloomy; morose; melancholy; morbid.</p><p>Bilbo doesn't want to get exiled from the Shire, but he also refuses to train his dragon in the traditional way.</p><p>Fusion of the Hobbit and How To Train Your Dragon</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Catching a Dragon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Theatre_Ghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatre_Ghost/gifts).



> Please do not treat this seriously. I repeat, do not take it seriously. It follows the plot of the HtTYD book pretty closely, but I have borrowed some aspects from the movie, such as Night Furies. Also, the characters are a mixture of their Hobbit/Dwarf selves and their Viking/Dragon counterparts. Therefore, the Vikings are well spoken, and the dragons have way to much dignity to be flinging poo around. Happy late Birthday Jillian. Here are your 2000 words, as promised.

Like all members of the Hairy Hobbits tribe, once Bilbo Beastly Baggins III turned ten he was expected to catch and train his very own dragon. If he succeeded, he’d be a full member of the tribe. Failure meant exile. Of course, he needed to catch the dragon first.

Which was why Bilbo and five other aspiring heroes his age were clustered on a beach, shivering in the rain, and listening to Gerontius bellow in order to be heard above the wind.

“NOW, YOU MUST BE SILENT WHEN YOU’RE PICKING OUT YOUR DRAGON, AND REMEMBER, AS THE SON OF THE CHIEF, BILBO IS THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO HAVE A MONSTROUS NIGHTMARE!”

Bilbo heard a snort from behind him and a murmured “As if.”

His cheeks burned with embarrassment, and for a moment he desperately wished that he was invisible.

Everyone in the Hairy Hobbit tribe knew that Bilbo wasn’t exactly hero material. He was skinny enough that the stiff winds of the Shire could sweep him away, and he had small hands and nonexistent muscles, making it almost impossible for him to wield one of the heavy axes or warhammers Vikings were so fond of. Worst of all, though, was his tendency to use his brain for ridiculous things like thinking and planning. Every Viking knew that the proper use for their heads was to smash them against their enemies, and brains got in the way of all that.

Bilbo’s cousin Otho Sackville-Baggins, on the other hand, was the image of an aspiring hero, with large muscles, meaty hands, and no grey matter between his ears worth noticing. Yesterday he had loudly boasted of the Monstrous Nightmare he was going to catch. It was against the rules for anyone but the chief or the chief’s son to catch that type of dragon, but Otho didn’t care. He had made it clear that he was sure that Bilbo would be exiled.

“ONCE YOU CLIMB UP THAT CLIFF,” Gerontius shouted, emphasizing each word, “YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN!”

Their hands were shaking from the cold as they tied the rope around themselves as a safety precaution. It wasn’t heroic to die in a fall after all. The trip up the cliff was slippery from the rain; Drogo, another of Bilbo’s cousins, lost his grip and nearly pulled the other five off with him before he got new hand and foot-holds. 

They all made it to the cave that led to the dragon hibernation chambers relatively unscathed, covered in scrapes that stung from the salt water spray. They got even more scraped up crawling through the tunnel, but by then the Vikings had the thrill of dragons to distract them from their minor pains.

The youths separated fairly quickly. At the edge of his vision, Bilbo could see Otho wrestling a Monstrous Nightmare into his bag while Primula slowly eased a Horrible Zippleback into hers. Bilbo himself headed for a nearby Basic Brown.

The Basic Brown was one of the most docile of dragons, barely better than a Common or Garden. However, it did grow big enough to hunt and fish for its master, and it would be enough to keep Bilbo from exile.

Bilbo struggled to fit the hibernating dragon into his bag. By the time he had finished, the only one who hadn’t grabbed a dragon was Fortinbras.

Fortinbras was the only Hobbit in the whole of the Shire who was less heroic than Bilbo. Like Bilbo, he was as skinny as a twig. He also had eyesight so bad that even with glasses he was constantly squinting, and he was allergic to everything. Everyone was sure that he would end up exiled.

Currently, Fortinbras was examining a pile of Deadly Nadders. Lobelia had grabbed a bright red one from the pile already, so he clearly thought that he would try his luck.

Bilbo watched nervously as the other boy yanked the tail of a silver Nadder. Its eye slowly slid open, first the outer eyelid and then the inner. The dragon was awake.

It let out an unholy screech and, in a matter of moments, the other dragons also awoke and began to attack the youths as they scrambled for the tunnel that led out of the cave, biting and scratching at any exposed skin.

Fortinbras still didn’t have a dragon. He would be exiled.

Unwilling to let the person who was the closest thing he had to a friend be exiled, Bilbo shrugged off his bag and shoved it at Fortinbras. The other boy shot him a confused look. 

“Just take it, and give me yours!” Bilbo shouted over the shrieks of dragons.

There was no time for anymore words after the two boys switched baskets as they bolted after the others.

It didn’t take long to reach the beach, and Gerontius was waiting for them, ax at the ready. A swarm of dragons followed them out, biting and clawing at the youths. They were out for blood after being so rudely awakened.

A dragon’s survival instinct is stronger than its thirst for revenge however, so when Gerontius threw his ax, taking out two dragons and wounding three more, the dragons turned tail and flew back to their cave to sleep some more.

Satisfied that the dragons were sufficiently afraid of him, Gerontius turned back to the youths and began to instruct them on the next part of their trials. “YOU HAVE FOUR MONTHS TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGONS, AFTER WHICH YOU WILL SHOW THE VILLAGE ELDERS ALL YOU HAVE LEARNED. FAILURE MEANS EXILE!”

The rest of the group after Gerontius was finished bellowing began to trek back to the village after Gerontius was finished bellowing, but Fortinbras hung back with Bilbo.

“Why did you give me your dragon?” he asked. “You’re going to get exiled because of me.”

“No I’m not,” Bilbo said. “I found another dragon as we were running and put it in my bag. My hand was just drawn to it, and once I touched it I knew I couldn’t put it back. I think this dragon is going to be extraordinary in some way.”

Bilbo pulled the bag off his back and opened it, eagerly showing his dragon to Fortinbras.

“Um, Bilbo, it’s very small,” Fortinbras said.

Bilbo took his bag back from the other boy and peered down at his dragon. Fortinbras was right; the only thing extraordinary about this dragon was its smallness. It was about the size of a small cat, whereas the other’s dragons had all been the size of medium dogs.

“Maybe it’s still growing,” Fortinbras suggested.

Bilbo sighed. “Maybe.”

He closed his bag and put it back on, and the two boys hurried after the others back to the village.


	2. Training a Dragon

Bilbo had hoped that he would be able to sneak back into his house and deposit his dragon in his room without having to face his father, but Bungo had been waiting up for him.

“Well son, let’s see your dragon then.” Bungo said, beaming at Bilbo from where he sat by the fire.

Bilbo gulped nervously, but he obediently pulled his dragon from his pack and held it out for inspection.

Bungo frowned. “It’s very small. Are you sure it isn’t a Common or Garden?”

The dragon lazily opened one eye and hissed at Bilbo’s father. _Thorin isssn’t a filthy Common or Garden. Thorin isss a Night Fury, a princcce under the mountain._

Fortunately for Thorin, Bilbo spoke Dragonese. Unfortunately for Bilbo, his father had outlawed the language, so he was the only one on the entire island who understood it.

“He’s not a Common or Garden; he’s a Night Fury. They’re very rare but extremely deadly,” Bilbo said.

“To what, mice?” Bungo asked, chuckling at his own joke.

“Well, um, well he’s still just a baby, so he’s got a lot of growing to do. And besides, he’s a prince among dragons,” Bilbo stammered.

Bungo shook his head. “You still should have caught a Monstrous Nightmare.”

Bilbo said nothing as his father turned and left, feeling crushed by the weight of his father’s disapproval.

0o0o0

There was only one book in the entire island of the Shire. It had been stolen from the Mirkwoods by Gerontius years ago, and it was written by the only expert on dragon behavior, Professor Gandalf.

Bilbo and Fortinbras snuck into the communal hall later that evening to sneak a peek at the book. A rousing feast was under way behind them, and the Vikings were toasting Otho and his Monstrous Nightmare, Dwalin.

The book was a magnificent thing, with a thick, heavy cover and metal clasps on each corner. It didn’t just show its importance; the book shouted out its grandness like a Viking war cry, expecting that all who beheld it would tremble with respect and awe.

Bilbo and Fortinbras reverently opened the book, hoping to see countless bits of wisdom and secrets about the dragon race, or at least some clue on what the Hel a Night Fury was supposed to be. Instead, there was only one line.

“How to train your dragon: Yell at it!” Bilbo read incredulously. “That’s it, that’s all that Professor Gandalf knows about training dragons, yelling at them?”

“Sounds like good advice to me.” Fortinbras muttered. Bilbo chose to ignore him.

“I’ll come up with my own way of training Thorin. Dragons are pretty intelligent, so maybe he can be reasoned with,” Bilbo mused.

0o0o0

All the other heroes in training found that yelling worked pretty well on their dragons. They had some problems; for example, Otho couldn’t keep Dwalin from mothering Thorin; Drogo sometimes couldn’t get his Gronckle, Gloin, to shut up; and Lobelia’s Nadder, Nori, kept stealing things. Not to mention that Primula’s Zippleback, Fili and Kili, liked to annoy everyone, and Bofur, Fortinbras’ dragon, was the least vicious creature ever. Despite all the little quirks of their dragons, the others were far beyond Bilbo, who couldn’t even get Thorin to obey simple commands like “go” or “fetch.”

 _They are beneath me. It is not dignified for a dragon to obey orders_ , he always insisted.

When reasoning didn’t work, Bilbo tried bribery, but the little dragon just accepted it as his due. He tried using the promise of jokes to motivate Thorin, but the dragon had just looked at him and asked why he thought that jokes would make him forget his dignity. Finally, Bilbo resorted to compliments.

 _Truly, you are the most majestic dragon in the world,_ Bilbo praised.

One of Thorin’s ears perked up from where he was sleeping on Bilbo’s bed. It was a sign that the dragon was interested, so Bilbo continued.

_You must be far faster and stronger than any of the other dragons._

_Of course,_ Thorin sniffed. _Night Furies are superior to any other breed._

_Including Monstrous Nightmares?_

_They may be fierce, but none can match me,_ the little dragon bragged.

 _Would you be so generous as to show me your fishing prowess?_ Bilbo asked.

Thorin looked at him with a baleful eye that communicated that he knew exactly what Bilbo was doing. Then he jumped off the bed and waddled out of the hut, glancing back to make sure Bilbo was behind him occasionally. He waited for Bilbo to open the door, then took three surprisingly graceful leaps to carry himself outside before launching himself into the air. He circled Bilbo’s head twice in a lazy spiral then he shot off towards the beach, flying so fast that he was almost a blur.

Bilbo’s jaw dropped open in amazement before he hurried after Thorin, the ever present wind cutting through his clothes.

By the time he reached the beach, huffing and puffing, Thorin had caught two good-sized fish and was already hunting another one.

Maybe Bilbo had a chance of passing the test after all.


	3. The Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the downside, this is a pretty short chapter. On the upside, I fixed the Dragonese so that it's actually in italics. Yay.

The day of the test dawned was windy and cold. Still, they were Vikings of the Hairy Hobbit tribe, and they didn’t let little things like potential hypothermia keep them from competing. The test of their dragon training was at noon, and the hours before that were dedicated to the Festival of Thor.

Bilbo spent the morning feeling sick with nerves and not very heroic at all. He had managed to plead and cajole Thorin into obeying some of his commands some of the time, but he was sure that it wouldn’t be enough. He wouldn’t be able to use compliments to get Thorin to obey him either, as speaking Dragonese in front of other people, including his father, would get him exiled.

Finally, it came time for the test, and the youths lined up on the beach, their dragons at their heels. Gerontius put them through their paces, and most of the dragons performed admirably, eagerly obeying their masters’ commands. Thorin also followed most of Bilbo’s commands, but he grumbled and sulked the entire time.

The real trouble came when it was time for the dragons to fish.

It started off fine; Dwalin and Gloin easily brought in fish after fish while Nori, Bofur , Fili, and Kili diligently dove after their own prey. Thorin, on the other hand, refused to fish in front of others.

Bilbo was becoming desperate, so he took a chance and whispered compliments to the dragon in Dragonese.

_But Thorin, you’re amazing at fishing. Don’t you want all those people to be in awe of you? he asked._

_It is not dignified,_ Thorin insisted.

 _Fine. Let all the other dragons show you up. What do I care?_ Bilbo grumbled.

Thorin glared at Bilbo, the promise of death in his eyes. Unfortunately for the dragon, Bilbo was training to be a Viking hero, and a simple death glare from a small dragon wasn’t enough to frighten him.

The dragon tensed suddenly, and Bilbo prepared himself for an attack. Instead of leaping at him like Thorin had done on occasion in the past, Thorin jumped into the air and speedily flew off towards the ocean.

The little dragon caught a few fish, and everything was going fine. Bilbo was beginning to believe that he wouldn’t end up exiled after all. Then either Fili or Kili playfully snapped at Thorin’s tail, and everything went south.

Thorin spat a fireball at Fili and Kili, but it missed and hit Dwalin. The Monstrous Nightmare knocked into Nori as he wheeled about trying to regain his balance. Nori spat venom onto Dwalin while Fili began sparking and Kili exhaled gas. The gas made Gloin sneeze fire at Bofur, who dived out of the way, clawing Thorin in the process. It degenerated into an all out brawl. Claws, teeth, and fire were everywhere; no dragon escaped unscathed.

The youths were desperately trying to control their dragons, to stop the fight. Other members of the Hairy Hobbit tribe watched in growing horror at the lack of discipline.

Bungo, chief of the tribe, couldn’t watch any longer.

“ENOUGH!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the cliffs beyond the beach. The dragons almost immediately stopped fighting and slunk back to their respective Vikings.

A lump grew in Bilbo’s throat as he watched his father’s face turn purple with rage.

“NOT A SINGLE ONE OF YOU MANAGED TO DEMONSTRATE PROPER CONTROL OVER YOUR DRAGONS! YOU HAVE FAILED, AND, AS OF NOW, YOU ARE ALL EXILED IN ACCORDANCE WITH OUR LAWS!” Bungo bellowed. “BY TOMORROW, YOU MUST BE GONE!”

The other youths all glared at Bilbo as they trekked back to the village, but they didn’t speak. It was against the law for an exile to speak while still on the island. Bilbo’s shoulders hunched up to his ears underneath their glares, and his cheeks burned with shame. Their exile was his fault, and they all knew it.

They packed up their belongings, which took most of the rest of the day, and then went to bed dreading the morning.


	4. Introducing Smaug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is now complete, and I will be posting a chapter a week. Also, it is now 7 chapters long instead of 5.

By the time morning came though, it seemed as if everyone had forgotten about their exile. Instead, the village was worried about the giant dragon that had washed up on the beach last night, and their own missing dragons.

The exiles had woken up late, after tossing and turning most of the night due to a large storm, and so by the time they gathered on the outskirts of the crowd that had formed, Bilbo’s father was already rounding up volunteers to be heroes and yell at the dragon.

“Why are they yelling at it?” Bilbo whispered to Fortinbras.

“I think they consulted Professor Gandalf’s book,” Fortinbras whispered back.

The entire village waited with bated breath for a sign of the heroicness of the Vikings who had left. First came the war cry of the Hairy Hobbit tribe, frightening enough to cause any warrior to wet their pants. Then came the terrifying, heart-stopping shriek of the dragon. A few people fainted dead away at the sound; the rest broke into a cold sweat.

A few minutes later, the band of warriors came into sight, running as fast as they could.

“Yelling...doesn’t...work,” panted Gerontius, the leader of the band.

“Right,” Bungo frowned heavily. “Anyone have any other suggestions?”

“YELL AT IT AGAIN!” someone shouted.

“YOU GO YELL AT IT THEN!” Gerontius shouted back, having regained his breath.

Nobody had the guts to suggest yelling at it after that.

“Maybe we could talk to the dragon,” Bilbo’s aunt Mirabella said.

“But it’s illegal to speak Dragonese,” Bungo pointed out.

“And whose fault is that?” Bilbo’s other aunt, Donnamira, asked. His aunts didn’t like his father very much.

“Even if we did go talk to it, no one knows the language,” Bungo said.

“Bilbo can speak Dragonese,” Fortinbras said. Bilbo was the only one who heard him, and he felt betrayed. Fortinbras had sworn to keep it a secret, although Bilbo had caused the all to be exiled, so the betrayal wasn’t completely unexpected.

“Fortinbras, no,” Bilbo begged.

“Bilbo, this could be your chance to be a hero, and besides, what do we have to lose? We’re all going to die in exile anyways,” the other boy said, then he yelled “Bilbo can speak Dragonese!”

“I’m sorry, what?” Bungo asked, taken aback.

“You remember Bilbo, don’t you?” Mirabella’s voice was sickly sweet.

“Yes, your son, whom you exiled? How could you forget him so soon?” Donnamira asked, her eyes flinty.

Bungo sighed. “Yes, yes, I know. Where is Bilbo?”

Fortinbras pushed Bilbo forward, bringing everyone’s eyes to him.

“Is it true son?” Bungo asked. “Can you speak Dragonese?”

Bilbo nodded.

“Well, um,” Bungo cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Son, if you go to ask the dragon whether he comes in peace or war, then you will be considered unbanished.”

Bilbo blinked at his father but said nothing.

“Oh right, um, you can speak now Bilbo,” Bungo said hurriedly, his cheeks starting to turn red.

“So, I’m a member of the tribe again because I’m heroic enough to walk to my death in an attempt to talk to the dragon?” Bilbo asked to clarify.

“Absolutely,” Bungo said.

“Alright,” Bilbo said decisively. “I’ll do it.”

0o0o0

The dragon was much bigger than Bilbo had expected. It wasn’t the size of a house, or even a small hill. It towered over the cliff that Bilbo and the others had climbed months ago to catch their dragons. Bilbo himself was as smaller than one of its teeth. The dragon was as red as blood, and it was terrifying.

The dragon appeared to be sleeping when he approached, but as soon as he got close to it, one of its glowing red eyes slowly opened.

_What do we have here?_ the dragon wondered to itself. _Has the supper come to be eaten all by itself? How marvelous!_

_I am not your supper,_ Bilbo said as loudly as he could. Being a language made up largely of hisses and clicks, it was difficult for him speak Dragonese any louder than a whisper, but he did the best he could.

The dragon laughed. It was horrible. _Silly little one, everyone is supper. Animals, plants, humans, dragons; sooner or later we all end up in someone’s belly. And you, Little Supper, will soon end up in my belly._

__

_Wait!_ Bilbo exclaimed, raising his arms instinctively. _Don’t I deserve to know the name of the one who is about to eat me?_

The dragon smirked. _I am Smaug the Terrible. And you?_

Bilbo gulped. _I am Bilbo Beastly Baggins the Third._

The dragon shivered slightly.

_A large name for such a Little Supper, and it is strange that the supper seeks me out. Why have you come here?_

__

_I have been sent to ask whether you come in peace or in war,_ Bilbo said.

_I come in peace,_ Smaug said. Bilbo’s shoulders slumped in relief. _But I’m still going to eat you all, starting with you._

Smaug opened his jaws wide in preparation to eat Bilbo in one gulp. It opened wider and wider, until all of the breath whooshed out of him in a gigantic yawn.

_It appears that I am too tired to eat you now. Come back in a few hours, Little Supper, and I will eat you then._

 


	5. The Beginnings of a Plan

Everyone was anxiously waiting for Bilbo when he returned.

 

“Well son,” Bungo boomed. “What did the dragon say?”

 

Bilbo swallowed nervously. “He said that he came in peace-”

 

A great cheer erupted from the crowd, cutting him off.

 

“But! But he also said that he was going to eat us all,” Bilbo finished.

 

Hamfast Gamgee, a teen a couple of years older than Bilbo, fainted dead away. A few people started to cry.

 

“Well,” Bungo blinked several times in rapid succession. “Well. Does anyone have any ideas on what to do?”

 

A fierce argument broke out, and Bilbo let himself drift out of the crowd and into the shadow of the communal hall. That was where the others found him.

 

“So what now?” Primula asked.

 

“What?” Bilbo responded, very confused. Why would they speak to him after he had gotten them exiled? Sure, Fortinbras had talked to him, but Bilbo was the other boy’s only friend.

 

Primula spoke very slowly, enunciating every word clearly. “What are we going to do now?”

 

“I don’t know, why are you asking me?”

 

“Because you can talk to them,” Lobelia cut in forcefully. “And your dragon may be the smallest and most unruly, but the other dragons at least listen to him. Therefore, _you_ are going to come up with a plan and _we_ are going to help you.”

 

“Yeah,” Otho spoke up. “What she said.”

 

“Alright,” Bilbo said, running a hand over his face and desperately trying to come up with some sort of plan. Smaug was huge and covered in spikes and armor-like scales and could fly and breathed fire. Humans were basically helpless against him. Dragons, on the other hand, might stand a chance, with careful planning. It was a long shot, but if they didn’t do anything Smaug would eat them. They didn’t have anything to lose. “Okay. I might have an idea, but we’ll need to find our dragons first.”

 

0o0o0

 

The first place they checked was the other side of the cliff in which the wild dragons hibernated. It was risky, as Smaug was sleeping just beyond the cliff, but they believed that the dragons may have returned to their original nesting spot and so had to look. Bilbo was very familiar with the area; he had spent many days there listening to the dragons when he was learning their language.

 

Unfortunately, their dragons weren’t there.

 

Even more unfortunately, another giant dragon had washed up on that beach. It was purple instead of red and a little smaller than Smaug, but otherwise it was the exact same.

 

It muttered to itself in Dragonese as it examined its claws, and Bilbo’s face rapidly turned white as he listened to the dragon, which called itself Scatha, describe some of its favorite ways to kill.

 

Fortunately for them, the dragon was too busy picking things out of its claws to notice the six youths sneaking away from it.

 

Once they were well out of sight and hearing of the dragon, Fortinbras flopped to the ground with a groan. “We’re all dead. So, so dead.”

 

“Actually,” Bilbo said absently. “I think this might be a good thing.”

 

“How?” Primula asked incredulously. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

 

“Well, we can set them against each other. If we can get them to kill each other off, then we’ll be fine.”

 

“How are we going to do that?” Drogo asked, scratching his head.

 

“Let’s find our dragons first,” Bilbo said.

 

0o0o0

 

They eventually found the dragons in deep within the swamp on the other side of the island, hiding under some logs. Bilbo had attempted to cajole the dragons into returning to the village, but it wasn’t going so well.

 

_Please come back. We need you to help us fight,_ Bilbo said.

 

_No,_ Thorin replied, huddling deeper into the mud. _Smaug likes to eat Night Furies. He killed my grandfather._

 

_Don’t you want revenge?_ Bilbo asked. _You don’t even have to face Smaug yourself._

_Do you have some sort of plan?_

 

Bilbo resisted the urge to smile; Thorin hadn’t straight up refused that time. He was wearing the dragon down.

 

_I do,_ Bilbo said. _Here’s what I was thinking…_

 

Bilbo explained his idea of getting the two giant dragons to fight and kill one another. Thorin offered up a few suggestions on how they would anger the two dragons enough to make them fight, and together they finalized the plan.

 

His voice was hoarse from talking in Dragonese for so long by the time they were done planning. The others saw Bilbo and Thorin separate and rushed over.

 

“Do we have a plan now?” Primula demanded to know.

 

“Yep,” Bilbo rasped. “And for it to work we need to go back to the village.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://thefreakwiththewings.tumblr.com/) now


	6. The Plan

The adults were still arguing over the best way to fight Smaug when the youths returned to the village, their dragons in tow. The other members of the tribe were so engaged in their dispute that they didn’t notice the young heroes sneaking about.

Primula and Drogo gathered up as many feather-filled pillows and blankets as they could find. Otho, Lobelia, and Fortinbras set about stealing as many sacks as they could. Lobelia was especially good at it, stealing twice as many as the boys. Bilbo was coaching the dragons on what to say and do in order for the plan to go off successfully.

After they had gathered their necessities, the youths set about filling the sacks with feathers. Everyone was sneezing by the time they were done, but Bilbo felt that they were ready to go.

“Bilbo, wait,” Lobelia said as he began gathering up as many sacks of feathers as he could. “You forgot your helmet.”

_I’ll get it,_ Thorin shot off towards the chief’s house and returned seconds later with Bilbo’s helmet in his mouth. Here.

_Thanks Thorin,_ Bilbo said as he set down the sacks in order to accept his helmet.

Strangely enough, when Bilbo put on his helmet, a typical metal cap with two horns sticking out of it, he felt better. He felt more like a Viking hero, ready to face down two gigantic dragons. His plan seemed more likely to succeed, and he felt more optimistic about life in general.

“Alright everyone, we all know the plan. Good luck.” Bilbo made eye contact with everyone, well aware that if the plan went wrong then they were all dead.

They nodded back at him, their faces solemn. The humans each grabbed as many feather-filled sacks as they could carry and split into two groups: Bilbo, Primula, and Drogo in one group and Fortinbras, Lobelia, and Otho in the other. The dragons followed their respective humans. Bilbo’s group was to attack Smaug while Fortinbras’ group would handle Scatha.

Smaug was sleeping when they snuck up on him. Great gusts from his exhales created waves on the sea.

The first part of Bilbo’s plan was to drop feathers on to the dragons’ eyes and nose to disorient and anger them. It went off without a hitch.

Thorin, Fili and Kili, and Gloin each retrieved sacks filled with feathers from the humans, flew them over to Smaug, and dumped them over his face before returning for another sack. Smaug woke up on the second attack with a great sneeze. Feathers filled the air around his head and pricked at his eyes and nose.

_Who has done this to me? Who dares?_ Smaug bellowed, his eyes streaming.

The second part of the plan was to blame the other giant dragon for the attack and set them against each other. As the fastest and most nimble, Thorin had volunteered to speak.

_My master, the great and ferocious Scatha, sends me to tell you that he believes that you are a pathetic worm, and that he intends to feast upon your flesh._

__

Smaug roared in fury and snapped at Thorin, belching fire. Thorin was a Night Fury though, and one thing Bilbo had learned during his months of trying to train Thorin was that he was incredibly fast. By the time Smaug got around to breathing fire, Thorin was already gone.

Smaug roared again and, with a creak that spoke of long years of disuse, unfurled his wings and took flight.

An answering roar came from the other side of the cliff. Scatha soon became visible to the youths huddling out of sight on the other side of Smaug’s beach.

The dragons clashed in a furious brawl, ripping and clawing at each other. Neither appeared to have the upper hand, but each had soon been dealt grievous wounds. The roars of the dragons echoed over the island, and the sickly sweet smoke from their fires rose in an ominous black cloud.

For a long time, neither dragon gained an advantage. Then Smaug ripped a giant hole in Scatha’s wing. The purple dragon retaliated by tearing open his rival’s chest. The dragons plummeted from the sky, Smaug on top of Scatha, and they landed with a sickening crunch.

Nothing moved.

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://thefreakwiththewings.tumblr.com/) now


	7. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should have posted this yesterday. In my defense, I didn't have any internet yesterday. Thanks to all of those who stuck with me until the end.

After several long, tense minutes of watching and waiting from their hiding place, Bilbo stood up.

“What in Odin’s name are you doing Bilbo?” Primula hissed at him.

“I’m just going to make sure that they’re dead. One of you should probably go back to the village to let them know what happened.” Bilbo snuck off before either of them could get another word in.

The closer he got to the dragons’ corpses, the more blood there was on the ground. It puddled around his boots once he actually got onto the beach. Bilbo pulled his shirt over his mouth and nose so as not to breath in any of the sickly sweet smoke.

Scatha was definitely dead; his head had been partially crushed beneath Smaug’s body. There was a great tear in the skin of the red dragon’s belly and chest, and some of his insides were visible.

Bilbo’s stomach roiled.

All of a sudden, Smaug’s side moved.

Bilbo took a hurried step back, his eyes wide, but his boot caught on a rock. He fell backwards and landed in a puddle with a splash.

He scrambled to his feet, only to find Smaug staring at him, the dragon’s eyes slightly glazed.

_So it was you who orchestrated my death Little Supper. In return, I think it only fair that I be your death, and then burn this island to the ground as my funeral pyre._

As soon as he had finished speaking, Smaug, moving faster than Bilbo thought possible, picked the boy up and threw him into his mouth.

Bilbo would have fallen straight down Smaug’s throat and into his stomach is his shirt hadn’t caught on a spear lodged in the back of the dragon’s throat.

He hung there in the dark, slowly suffocating on the sickly sweet smoke produced by Smaug’s fire. An orange glow began to suffuse the area, light shining from two holes, each the size of one of Bilbo’s fingers and only about a hand length apart. That must be where the fire came from, Bilbo realized. On normal dragons the holes were too small to see, and people had always wondered where their fire came from. Not that the discovery did him much good, as he was going to die soon.

Bilbo’s thoughts were slowing down, so it took him a little while to realize that the holes were glowing brighter and brighter because Smaug was preparing to burn down the island as his final act. Even if he was going to die, Bilbo didn’t want the rest of the island to go with him.

The spear that had temporarily saved his life was old and not meant to support the weight of a person for any length of time. It began to splinter, bringing Bilbo closer to the fire holes. He stared at the orange glow coming from then, trying to think of something he could do.

They were small holes; he could plug them with his fingers. That would mean he would hang from two fingers though, and he couldn’t do that for any time before he fell and died. He needed something else.

The spear cracked even more, and the force of it sent his helmet slipping down over his eyes. Bilbo pulled it off his head; he was going to die whether he felt like a Viking or not. He stared at it, examining the shape and size of it, when he was hit by an idea. The spacing of the horns was about a hand length apart, and the horns themselves gradually widened from the pointed tips to the width of two of his fingers at the base. It was the perfect size.

Bilbo reached out and was barely able to shove his helmet into the fire holes, cutting off all light.

The effort of doing that broke the spear completely, and Bilbo began to tumble downwards.

All of a sudden, Bilbo was flung out of Smaug’s throat and mouth by a ginormous breath, and he flew through the air. The force of hitting the ground knocked him out.

0o0o0

“Bilbo! Bilbo, can you hear me?” someone shouted.

Bilbo slowly opened his eyes, his entire body aching.

“Wha-” he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, his head pounding. “What happened?”

“Your dragon saved you,” a voice he recognized as Primula said. “He attacked the inside of Smaug’s nose once you got eaten, making him sneeze you back out. The force of it sent him into the ocean.”

“So he’s dead then. That’s good.” Bilbo rubbed at his eyes, willing his headache to go away. “Did anything else happen?”

“Drogo got the rest of the village; they were here a little while ago. They went back to prepare a feast though.”

“Bilbo, son, are you alright?” Bungo asked, crouching down next to Bilbo.

Bilbo blinked a few times and squinted at his father. “No, not really. Why’s there going to be a feast?”

Bungo chuckled. “Son, you children have more than proven yourselves to be heroes. No one is getting exiled, so your aunts decided to throw a feast to celebrate.”

0o0o0

  
From then on, Vikings were taught Dragonese, the classes were led by Bilbo, and the relationship between dragons and humans became a partnership. Bilbo wrote his own book about dragons, _How To Speak Dragonese_ , that quickly surpassed _How To Train Your Dragon_ by Professor Gandalf as the most popular book on the island. Life went on in the Shire, and the Hairy Hobbit tribe prospered because of their new relationship with dragons.

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be around 5 chapters total.


End file.
